Victories:
- I have regained enough mobility that today I could put on a T-shirt (this may sound insignificant but trust me, a few days ago there is NO WAY I could have moved my arm up to do this)
- I have regained enough mobility to use both hands to wash my hair
- This morning I had enough energy to go from tide-pool to tide-pool with Tessa, looking at the "creatures" and exploring the beach at low tide
Setbacks:
- I am so incredibly tired! I had a nap at 10:40 after this morning's adventures, and I just got up. I anticipate another nap this afternoon, as I am really feeling wiped out.
Ryan is doing double-time on my behalf, taking care of Tessa, and I'm grateful yet sad he can't get more of a break himself. This is not the "me" that I'm used to.
Today when I got out of the shower, Tessa came barging into the bathroom (as she likes to do!). I forgot how different I looked until I saw the look on her face. "Mama has only one nipple!" she said, and I had to gather my wits about me to explain. We have said "the doctors took the cancer out" and "mama has a really big boo-boo" and such things, but we had not said "mama's breast was taken off" yet. Well, today we explained that, and even let her gently touch the bandage. She was very brave, and seemed happy when I told her that the doctors were going to make mama a new breast next year. Our girl is very, very brave.
Love,
Kristina
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Saturday
Last night I was so tired that I could barely function - I went to bed to vege out at about 5pm and though I got up for dinner I didn't do much else. I'm relieved that this morning I'm back to my more normal self - hurrah! - and I'm looking forward to a good day. I still hope to get to the beach, as yesterday my energy levels didn't allow for that.
It's great to have Ryan home this weekend. His job has been taking a toll on him - big projects and extra responsibilities - and we ALL need some down time. I think we'll start by going out for breakfast, and playing it by ear after that.
Love,
Kristina
It's great to have Ryan home this weekend. His job has been taking a toll on him - big projects and extra responsibilities - and we ALL need some down time. I think we'll start by going out for breakfast, and playing it by ear after that.
Love,
Kristina
Friday, June 17, 2005
Humming along
Yesterday we (Ryan came with me) went to the Psycho Oncologist, Dr. Lipton, to discuss the impacts of cancer on our marriage and on Tessa. She was very reassuring, and basically said that with our rock solid foundation that we do not need to fear becoming a divorce statistic; cancer tends to illuminate whatever flaws there are in a marriage, but also illuminates strengths, and our relationship has more strengths than flaws. The doctor said that she has seen men come in and say "A breast is part of a woman's femininity. If she gives up her breast, I'm leaving." I cannot imagine the cruelty in such a statement, and it's pretty darn obvious that my loving husband didn't marry me for my breasts. (Actually, it was for my rear end. KIDDING!) Anyway, Ryan isn't that kind of guy, and we are determined to have this experience make us closer than ever before.
We will continue to be truthful with Tessa, answering her questions fully and giving her all of the age appropriate answers that we can. We will show her my scar when I'm a bit more healed, and we will not lie to her. The psychiatrist told us that children fear being lied to or having the truth hidden from them more than any other thing (whereas adults' number one fear is public speaking....) and we will not give Tessa reason to have this fear.
In positive news, I bumped into my surgeon (same office as the psychiatrist) and she was amazed at how well I looked. I am the model patient, and my healing is spectacular so far. I plan to keep up the good work. (Even though this means probably starting chemo...and feeling sick, and being bald...sooner, I won't fake it to avoid that. Even though I want to.)
Tessa had nightmares last night and came into our bed at 4:30am, crying out "No, Mommy! Nooo! No! Mama!" and she took a while to calm down. When she was calm, we asked if she was having bad dreams and she said yes. Bad dreams about cancer. She couldn't go back to sleep (and poor Ryan was up with her from 4:30-7:30 before he went to work) but she has seemed relatively happy this morning. She'll be having an early nap, and so will I. Send Ryan energy vibes - the poor guy probably needed a triple vente mocha to make it through the day.
Today is relatively calm, after our less-than-auspicious wake-up call. Caley is here and playing in the back yard with Tessa now, and soon we will have lunch, and then it's nap time. This afternoon we hope to go to the beach as the weather is fabulous.
So, as you can see, we're just humming along. We haven't heard biopsy results yet from the mastectomy, and I'll let you know when those come back.
With love,
Kristina
We will continue to be truthful with Tessa, answering her questions fully and giving her all of the age appropriate answers that we can. We will show her my scar when I'm a bit more healed, and we will not lie to her. The psychiatrist told us that children fear being lied to or having the truth hidden from them more than any other thing (whereas adults' number one fear is public speaking....) and we will not give Tessa reason to have this fear.
In positive news, I bumped into my surgeon (same office as the psychiatrist) and she was amazed at how well I looked. I am the model patient, and my healing is spectacular so far. I plan to keep up the good work. (Even though this means probably starting chemo...and feeling sick, and being bald...sooner, I won't fake it to avoid that. Even though I want to.)
Tessa had nightmares last night and came into our bed at 4:30am, crying out "No, Mommy! Nooo! No! Mama!" and she took a while to calm down. When she was calm, we asked if she was having bad dreams and she said yes. Bad dreams about cancer. She couldn't go back to sleep (and poor Ryan was up with her from 4:30-7:30 before he went to work) but she has seemed relatively happy this morning. She'll be having an early nap, and so will I. Send Ryan energy vibes - the poor guy probably needed a triple vente mocha to make it through the day.
Today is relatively calm, after our less-than-auspicious wake-up call. Caley is here and playing in the back yard with Tessa now, and soon we will have lunch, and then it's nap time. This afternoon we hope to go to the beach as the weather is fabulous.
So, as you can see, we're just humming along. We haven't heard biopsy results yet from the mastectomy, and I'll let you know when those come back.
With love,
Kristina
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Thoughts on Bravery & Courage
In the past weeks, I've heard "You're so brave" or "You have so much courage" a thousand times. Every time, I'm sort of befuddled by the statments. I don't feel particularly brave or courageous - I certainly have no special, magical powers to get me through this.
Here's the real deal. I'm not brave, and I have only the ordinary amounts of courage. I have cried real tears through this process. I am still mourning the changes to Tessa's childhood that are occuring. I grieve over the fact that my daughter comes flying at me with arms open to give me a giant hug, and I have to turn from her and say "No honey, Mommy is too sore to hug you." I hate that. Yes, hate is a strong word. Let me repeat myself - I HATE THAT. I do not feel brave or courageous, I feel angry and upset.
But here's the flip side of that - I just don't have a choice about how to react to this situation. Really! If I decide to cry and sit in bed and bemoan my fate, what do I get from that? Well, I will feel worse than I already do, I will add to the pain of my friends and family, and it will spiral downhill. It doesn't sound fun to me, and there's no payoff for such behavior. Alternately, I can face the day with a smile - fake or not - on my face, and the rewards are huge. My daughter is happy in my presence, people surround me with love and caring, and the fake smile feels real when I'm surrounded in so many positive things.
I could lay in bed saying "It hurts." (Yes, it does. Of course it does - you can't remove a body part without pain.) But then life would pass me by, and I'd miss out on seeing Tessa make a new friend at the park, or I wouldn't be able to help myself by getting the post-mastectomy camisole. I could close my eyes and wait for it to go away...but I won't, not because I'm courageous, but because of my new realization (and fear) that this is the only life I've got, and I want to spend it LIVING.
I'm not brave. I'm not particularly courageous. I'm only doing the only thing that I know how to do. I want to live, and I want to feel the love of my friends and family around me. I want to see smiles around me, and I want to feel the happiness of others. When I give out sadness, sadness is reflected back at me (which is only natural). When I give out smiles, people open their hearts to me and laugh with me and make me forget what I'm going through. So, it's not a choice at all. I'm just doing what needs to be done.
I don't have a choice. Cancer took away a lot of my choices. I'm not brave or courageous, any more or less than those around me. I'm just living. One day at a time, I'm trying to figure out how to make this life of mine work, and how to best use my life. I will weep again, and I will allow myself to feel grief and pain, but I will not focus on those things. It doesn't help me, but it does hurt me to do so.
So, you may call me courageous or brave, but I will laugh (nicely, I hope!) in the face of such words. I'm only doing what needs to be done....and so are the people around me. None of you wanted to invite cancer into your lives, through my body, any more than I wanted this. And yet all of you are helping me in so many ways - through kind notes and calls, flowers, food, gifts small and large, helping to care for Tessa,and keeping my spirits up. None of you wanted to spend your summer caring for me, and yet there you are. So, you're just as brave as I am, as far as I'm concerned. We're all just doing the job as we best know how.
Thank you for being brave at my side. You are a courageous army, and I am proud of you. Together, I will agree, we ARE brave, and the strength of our numbers offers us great courage.
With love,
Kristina
Here's the real deal. I'm not brave, and I have only the ordinary amounts of courage. I have cried real tears through this process. I am still mourning the changes to Tessa's childhood that are occuring. I grieve over the fact that my daughter comes flying at me with arms open to give me a giant hug, and I have to turn from her and say "No honey, Mommy is too sore to hug you." I hate that. Yes, hate is a strong word. Let me repeat myself - I HATE THAT. I do not feel brave or courageous, I feel angry and upset.
But here's the flip side of that - I just don't have a choice about how to react to this situation. Really! If I decide to cry and sit in bed and bemoan my fate, what do I get from that? Well, I will feel worse than I already do, I will add to the pain of my friends and family, and it will spiral downhill. It doesn't sound fun to me, and there's no payoff for such behavior. Alternately, I can face the day with a smile - fake or not - on my face, and the rewards are huge. My daughter is happy in my presence, people surround me with love and caring, and the fake smile feels real when I'm surrounded in so many positive things.
I could lay in bed saying "It hurts." (Yes, it does. Of course it does - you can't remove a body part without pain.) But then life would pass me by, and I'd miss out on seeing Tessa make a new friend at the park, or I wouldn't be able to help myself by getting the post-mastectomy camisole. I could close my eyes and wait for it to go away...but I won't, not because I'm courageous, but because of my new realization (and fear) that this is the only life I've got, and I want to spend it LIVING.
I'm not brave. I'm not particularly courageous. I'm only doing the only thing that I know how to do. I want to live, and I want to feel the love of my friends and family around me. I want to see smiles around me, and I want to feel the happiness of others. When I give out sadness, sadness is reflected back at me (which is only natural). When I give out smiles, people open their hearts to me and laugh with me and make me forget what I'm going through. So, it's not a choice at all. I'm just doing what needs to be done.
I don't have a choice. Cancer took away a lot of my choices. I'm not brave or courageous, any more or less than those around me. I'm just living. One day at a time, I'm trying to figure out how to make this life of mine work, and how to best use my life. I will weep again, and I will allow myself to feel grief and pain, but I will not focus on those things. It doesn't help me, but it does hurt me to do so.
So, you may call me courageous or brave, but I will laugh (nicely, I hope!) in the face of such words. I'm only doing what needs to be done....and so are the people around me. None of you wanted to invite cancer into your lives, through my body, any more than I wanted this. And yet all of you are helping me in so many ways - through kind notes and calls, flowers, food, gifts small and large, helping to care for Tessa,and keeping my spirits up. None of you wanted to spend your summer caring for me, and yet there you are. So, you're just as brave as I am, as far as I'm concerned. We're all just doing the job as we best know how.
Thank you for being brave at my side. You are a courageous army, and I am proud of you. Together, I will agree, we ARE brave, and the strength of our numbers offers us great courage.
With love,
Kristina
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Yawwwwnnnn
Today was busy, and I probably pushed myself too hard. I had planned to take a nap this afternoon, but the option to go to Nordstrom and get a post-mastectomy camisole was certainly too good to pass up. Beth (bless you!) picked me up and gave me the royal treatment, treating me to coffee and taking good care of me, and the Nordstrom "prosthesis consultant" was knowledgeable and efficient. I walked away with two camisoles that, when worn under clothing, make me look somewhat normal. Hallelujah! I'm relieved to have them.
But after a day of shopping, playing at the park, small housework, and just chatting with Tessa and admonishing her not to hang on me (with Caley's fabulous help with all of these things) I'm pretty wiped out. I want to believe that I can do anything and that my healing is occuring at a miraculous pace, but I'm horribly tired and unable to face Tessa's enthusiasm with much more than a sigh. That's tough for me, but not the end of the world, I guess.
I have many people that I wish to thank, thoughts on seeing myself post-surgery for the first time, thoughts on friendship, and more that I would like to share but I think I will be asleep by 8pm and that must come first. Again, my "real" thoughts must wait until another day.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with the Psycho Oncologist - e.g. a psychologist - to discuss cancer's ramifications in our lives. The divorce statistics for cancer families is high, and I want to talk about how to reduce our risk of problems before they occur. We also plan to ask more questions about how to approach things with Tessa, and how to handle ourselves in front of her to give her the best possible experience throughout this nightmare. She wants her regular mama back, and she gets angry sometimes when she sees the drain, saying "NO, Mama! No more! Take it off!" I wish I could do that for her, and for myself.
Ah well this too shall pass. The drain is temporary, the lack of a breast is temporary, and the cancer is temporary. Even my bad attitude tonight is temporary, and I know that - tomorrow is a new day and I will pace myself and have a good time.
Love,
Kristina
PS Molly & McConkey family: Ryan, Caley & Tessa LOVED the meal on Monday, and Tessa plays often with her "sandwich." THANK YOU! Linda: Yummmmmmmmmmy chicken maribella tonight - thank you so much!
But after a day of shopping, playing at the park, small housework, and just chatting with Tessa and admonishing her not to hang on me (with Caley's fabulous help with all of these things) I'm pretty wiped out. I want to believe that I can do anything and that my healing is occuring at a miraculous pace, but I'm horribly tired and unable to face Tessa's enthusiasm with much more than a sigh. That's tough for me, but not the end of the world, I guess.
I have many people that I wish to thank, thoughts on seeing myself post-surgery for the first time, thoughts on friendship, and more that I would like to share but I think I will be asleep by 8pm and that must come first. Again, my "real" thoughts must wait until another day.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with the Psycho Oncologist - e.g. a psychologist - to discuss cancer's ramifications in our lives. The divorce statistics for cancer families is high, and I want to talk about how to reduce our risk of problems before they occur. We also plan to ask more questions about how to approach things with Tessa, and how to handle ourselves in front of her to give her the best possible experience throughout this nightmare. She wants her regular mama back, and she gets angry sometimes when she sees the drain, saying "NO, Mama! No more! Take it off!" I wish I could do that for her, and for myself.
Ah well this too shall pass. The drain is temporary, the lack of a breast is temporary, and the cancer is temporary. Even my bad attitude tonight is temporary, and I know that - tomorrow is a new day and I will pace myself and have a good time.
Love,
Kristina
PS Molly & McConkey family: Ryan, Caley & Tessa LOVED the meal on Monday, and Tessa plays often with her "sandwich." THANK YOU! Linda: Yummmmmmmmmmy chicken maribella tonight - thank you so much!
When the little things are huge
Something else to be happy about...
Today I have been pretty active and we went to the park and to Marshall's (and Tessa's favorite, Jamba Juice) and I felt pretty good but very self conscious because of my new appearance. I'm terribly lopsided - which is much better than having cancer, but still stinks - and worse than that I've got this horrible drain full of nasty fluid hanging from me in plain sight of anyone who sees me. It makes me feel like a cancer patient instead of feeling like Kristina, and I don't like it. Plus, it hangs out and sometimes Tessa tries to grab it, which makes my blood pressure soar and brings tears to my eyes because it hurts.
Well, Susan forwarded me a note from her friend Adrienne, who works for Cancer Care Alliance, and let me know that Nordstrom (of all places!) sells a "post mastectomy camisole" with a place to store the drain and a nice, soft, lightweight (important because I've got stitches etc.) fake breast to make me look less lopsided. I have a 3pm appointment today and I'm so GLAD! Best of all, my insurance covers it 100% and I can even get more than one (so one can go in the wash).
I will still have a drain. I will still be missing a breast. But thanks to an ingenious little camisole, I won't have to feel like I have a sign on my forehead saying "I HAVE BREAST CANCER!" when I walk down the street. It's a little victory of just the type I needed today.
Kristina
Today I have been pretty active and we went to the park and to Marshall's (and Tessa's favorite, Jamba Juice) and I felt pretty good but very self conscious because of my new appearance. I'm terribly lopsided - which is much better than having cancer, but still stinks - and worse than that I've got this horrible drain full of nasty fluid hanging from me in plain sight of anyone who sees me. It makes me feel like a cancer patient instead of feeling like Kristina, and I don't like it. Plus, it hangs out and sometimes Tessa tries to grab it, which makes my blood pressure soar and brings tears to my eyes because it hurts.
Well, Susan forwarded me a note from her friend Adrienne, who works for Cancer Care Alliance, and let me know that Nordstrom (of all places!) sells a "post mastectomy camisole" with a place to store the drain and a nice, soft, lightweight (important because I've got stitches etc.) fake breast to make me look less lopsided. I have a 3pm appointment today and I'm so GLAD! Best of all, my insurance covers it 100% and I can even get more than one (so one can go in the wash).
I will still have a drain. I will still be missing a breast. But thanks to an ingenious little camisole, I won't have to feel like I have a sign on my forehead saying "I HAVE BREAST CANCER!" when I walk down the street. It's a little victory of just the type I needed today.
Kristina
more research/info
Tonight there is an online conference at 6:30 that is going to discuss new developments in cancer treatment - if you want to view it, go to:
http://www.breastcancer.org/conf.html
We'll answer your questions about the latest research presented earlier this month at the annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology (ASCO). There will be new information on the use of Herceptin with chemotherapy for early stage, lymph node-positive, HER2-positive breast cancer; the importance of eating a low-fat diet; and whether statins--used to lower cholesterol--can help women without a personal history of breast cancer reduce their risk of getting the disease.
Remember, I'm still not "staged" and we don't have the definitive answer about whether it's in my lymph nodes yet (still hopeful that it's not) and treatment is different for every scenerio, but I am informed that Herceptin is in my future.
K
http://www.breastcancer.org/conf.html
We'll answer your questions about the latest research presented earlier this month at the annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology (ASCO). There will be new information on the use of Herceptin with chemotherapy for early stage, lymph node-positive, HER2-positive breast cancer; the importance of eating a low-fat diet; and whether statins--used to lower cholesterol--can help women without a personal history of breast cancer reduce their risk of getting the disease.
Remember, I'm still not "staged" and we don't have the definitive answer about whether it's in my lymph nodes yet (still hopeful that it's not) and treatment is different for every scenerio, but I am informed that Herceptin is in my future.
K
Wednesday - finding my groove
Hi, everybody. Just a little update to say that I'm feeling pretty good this morning, and looking forward to a "normal" day with Caley and Tessa. We will go to Marshall's (to buy me some new shirts) and to Jamba Juice (Tessa's favorite destination), and if the weather holds we'll stop by Lincoln Park where I will watch Caley chase Tessa around!
Last night I wore myself out with too much activity, but I don't regret it - I had a wonderful time with friends and family. My parents & Auntie Charlotte came for dinner (Caley stayed, too), and then Holly, Hans & Daven came for a visit and to show us the pictures that Holly took of our family on Saturday. The pictures are GORGEOUS - I really think she did a fabulous job of capturing the essence of our family, and I can't wait to share them with all of you. We'll be making copies for people, so stay tuned...but be patient as we're moving at a slower pace these days.
This afternoon I plan to have a nap. That's rather unusual for me, but unusual times call for unusual responses. To nap mid-day feels extremely decadent to me, but I think it will help me to heal, and I'm all about healing! The sooner I can get this drain out, the better.
Again, I hope for a more thoughtful post some time soon, but right now I just want to enjoy the day with Tessa & Caley. I hope everyone is doing well!
Love,
Kristina
Last night I wore myself out with too much activity, but I don't regret it - I had a wonderful time with friends and family. My parents & Auntie Charlotte came for dinner (Caley stayed, too), and then Holly, Hans & Daven came for a visit and to show us the pictures that Holly took of our family on Saturday. The pictures are GORGEOUS - I really think she did a fabulous job of capturing the essence of our family, and I can't wait to share them with all of you. We'll be making copies for people, so stay tuned...but be patient as we're moving at a slower pace these days.
This afternoon I plan to have a nap. That's rather unusual for me, but unusual times call for unusual responses. To nap mid-day feels extremely decadent to me, but I think it will help me to heal, and I'm all about healing! The sooner I can get this drain out, the better.
Again, I hope for a more thoughtful post some time soon, but right now I just want to enjoy the day with Tessa & Caley. I hope everyone is doing well!
Love,
Kristina
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Gee it's great to be back home again
(The title of this post is an old John Denver song, in case you don't recall the reference...!)
I can not believe how well I am doing. Really, I'm completely surprised that I feel so wonderful - I had hoped but never believed that I could feel so strong so quickly. As Michele said, the surgery went smoothly, and my recovery has (so far) gone much better than anticipated. This morning I was able to shower without assistance (I liked the nurses but there are some things I prefer to do solo), walk around the ward unassisted, and do several "post surgery" exercises. I intend to be a model patient with a record recovery time, and I'm doing my utmost to see that happens.
Best of all (to me), my spirits are flying high. I feel confident that Dr. Dawson removed all of the cancer, and that all that remains to be done is to insure that it never comes back (hence the chemo, radiation, hormone therapy, Herceptin, etc.). I went into that hospital a woman infested with cancer, and I came out healthy. I feel peace in my heart that I am meant to be on this earth for many, many years to come.
There are, of course, details to be dealt with. I have a Jackson-Pratt drain, a lovely (NOT!) new appendage that goes into the incision site and drains excess fluid. It's gross, and I have to drain it 3x/day, which is even more disgusting. I'll have it for ten days to three weeks, apparently, and I'm already looking forward to its removal.
My chest looks quite odd to me, but not frightening. On one side, I look like an adolescent boy; on the other, a 35 year old curvaceous woman. When the drain is removed, I will be fitted for a prosthesis, and I will look forward to that because I think it will be difficult to find flattering clothes for such a figure (and that's an understatement). Already, I realize a need to go shopping, because my range of motion is quite limited (understandably) on the left side as I recover, and so I won't be wearing my usual snug T-shirts and need to stick to shirts with buttons down the front so that I can get in and out with ease. Oh well I don't mind an excuse for shopping for some cute new shirts! Anyway, I'm flashing my left side to anyone who wants to see, mostly to show that it is NOT frightening - the area looks smooth, and with a strip of gauze bandage covering the incision, I don't feel at all like Bride of Frankenstein. I have one less thing to be frightened of - I can cross that off my list!
I have so much to say, but I will keep this short as my lack of sleep is catching up with me. On Sunday night, neither Ryan nor myself slept well, and last night I didn't get more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep at a time due to various hospital noises, "vitals" checks, and minor discomforts. I'm looking forward to my own bed and the comforts of home, and I will certainly be having a nap this afternoon.
Tessa is her happy self (and quite fascinated by my drain - yuck!), Caley is holding up well to the constant duties of a caregiver, and Ryan's spirits (like my own) are strong. Our household is humming along, and soon we will find our rhythem.
I look forward to writing more here, but right now sleep is even more appealing to me than lunch, and writing will wait. Thank you for your kind messages, words, thoughts, prayers, flowers, and all the rest. I love you!
Kristina
I can not believe how well I am doing. Really, I'm completely surprised that I feel so wonderful - I had hoped but never believed that I could feel so strong so quickly. As Michele said, the surgery went smoothly, and my recovery has (so far) gone much better than anticipated. This morning I was able to shower without assistance (I liked the nurses but there are some things I prefer to do solo), walk around the ward unassisted, and do several "post surgery" exercises. I intend to be a model patient with a record recovery time, and I'm doing my utmost to see that happens.
Best of all (to me), my spirits are flying high. I feel confident that Dr. Dawson removed all of the cancer, and that all that remains to be done is to insure that it never comes back (hence the chemo, radiation, hormone therapy, Herceptin, etc.). I went into that hospital a woman infested with cancer, and I came out healthy. I feel peace in my heart that I am meant to be on this earth for many, many years to come.
There are, of course, details to be dealt with. I have a Jackson-Pratt drain, a lovely (NOT!) new appendage that goes into the incision site and drains excess fluid. It's gross, and I have to drain it 3x/day, which is even more disgusting. I'll have it for ten days to three weeks, apparently, and I'm already looking forward to its removal.
My chest looks quite odd to me, but not frightening. On one side, I look like an adolescent boy; on the other, a 35 year old curvaceous woman. When the drain is removed, I will be fitted for a prosthesis, and I will look forward to that because I think it will be difficult to find flattering clothes for such a figure (and that's an understatement). Already, I realize a need to go shopping, because my range of motion is quite limited (understandably) on the left side as I recover, and so I won't be wearing my usual snug T-shirts and need to stick to shirts with buttons down the front so that I can get in and out with ease. Oh well I don't mind an excuse for shopping for some cute new shirts! Anyway, I'm flashing my left side to anyone who wants to see, mostly to show that it is NOT frightening - the area looks smooth, and with a strip of gauze bandage covering the incision, I don't feel at all like Bride of Frankenstein. I have one less thing to be frightened of - I can cross that off my list!
I have so much to say, but I will keep this short as my lack of sleep is catching up with me. On Sunday night, neither Ryan nor myself slept well, and last night I didn't get more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep at a time due to various hospital noises, "vitals" checks, and minor discomforts. I'm looking forward to my own bed and the comforts of home, and I will certainly be having a nap this afternoon.
Tessa is her happy self (and quite fascinated by my drain - yuck!), Caley is holding up well to the constant duties of a caregiver, and Ryan's spirits (like my own) are strong. Our household is humming along, and soon we will find our rhythem.
I look forward to writing more here, but right now sleep is even more appealing to me than lunch, and writing will wait. Thank you for your kind messages, words, thoughts, prayers, flowers, and all the rest. I love you!
Kristina
Kristina on her way home -- Michele's Update
Hello friends of Kristina! You'll be happy to know that Kristina goes home today, possibly as early as 10:00. I spoke with her last night and she is doing wonderfully. She says that she is feeling better than she anticipated that she would feel and that as of right now, she considers herself cancer free. As far as she is concerned, chemo and radiation are her "insurance policy". She feels healthy and whole today.
Kristina revealed that only three lymph nodes were taken at the time of the mastectomy: one sentinel node and two others. The sentinel node is the node closest to the cancer and would be the first place that the radioactive dye would go to show that the cancer had spread. The test that was performed on the sentinel node during surgery came up "clean". Although two other more exact tests have to be completed for certainty, all indications verify Kristina's belief that she is once again healthy.
Kristina says she plans to take small, positive steps to regain her normal life as soon as possible, such as going on her usual walk with Tessa today. I'll keep this short since Kristina is sure to update you herself later today, only more elegantly and more specifically than I. Goodbye from me. Michele
Kristina revealed that only three lymph nodes were taken at the time of the mastectomy: one sentinel node and two others. The sentinel node is the node closest to the cancer and would be the first place that the radioactive dye would go to show that the cancer had spread. The test that was performed on the sentinel node during surgery came up "clean". Although two other more exact tests have to be completed for certainty, all indications verify Kristina's belief that she is once again healthy.
Kristina says she plans to take small, positive steps to regain her normal life as soon as possible, such as going on her usual walk with Tessa today. I'll keep this short since Kristina is sure to update you herself later today, only more elegantly and more specifically than I. Goodbye from me. Michele
Monday, June 13, 2005
Post-Op -- Michele's Update
First, thank you to everyone who has sent their well wishes to Kristina. I will make sure she hears these tonight. Kristina requests no visitors at the hospital tonight or tomorrow. Know that she is surrounded by her family and is resting. She will be happy to visit with you later in the week at her home.
Susan is the reporter in the field for KBLOG and I am manning the desk. Susan reports that Kristina is in good spirits after her mastectomy, although is a bit "dopey" from the pain medications. In true Amazon fashion, she has already faced her scar and is showing it off to close family and friends. If you've got it, flaunt it, baby. Of the bandaged scar, Susan used the following words: amazing, smooth, clean, not scary, not puffy. I'll let it to Kristina to report her feelings upon looking at this healing wound for the first time.
Susan says that the preliminary results of Kristina's surgery are good--no indication of the cancer having spread further as of yet. Kristina will be released from the hospital tomorrow before lunch. If you would like to visit her, give the house a call or send an email before you come so that Ryan and Kristina can pace themselves. If you have received the email distribution list, you know how many dozens of friends and family will potentially want to stop by.
I know Kristina sends her love and is inspired by the tremendous outpouring of love, support, and prayers. Since this is perhaps my last post, let me say that let's keep it up over the coming months when she'll need us more than ever through her chemo and radiation treatments. This is Michele, signing off for KBLOG. Goodnight.
Susan is the reporter in the field for KBLOG and I am manning the desk. Susan reports that Kristina is in good spirits after her mastectomy, although is a bit "dopey" from the pain medications. In true Amazon fashion, she has already faced her scar and is showing it off to close family and friends. If you've got it, flaunt it, baby. Of the bandaged scar, Susan used the following words: amazing, smooth, clean, not scary, not puffy. I'll let it to Kristina to report her feelings upon looking at this healing wound for the first time.
Susan says that the preliminary results of Kristina's surgery are good--no indication of the cancer having spread further as of yet. Kristina will be released from the hospital tomorrow before lunch. If you would like to visit her, give the house a call or send an email before you come so that Ryan and Kristina can pace themselves. If you have received the email distribution list, you know how many dozens of friends and family will potentially want to stop by.
I know Kristina sends her love and is inspired by the tremendous outpouring of love, support, and prayers. Since this is perhaps my last post, let me say that let's keep it up over the coming months when she'll need us more than ever through her chemo and radiation treatments. This is Michele, signing off for KBLOG. Goodnight.
Surgery Day -- Michele's Update
Hello all! As of 3:30 this afternoon, Kristina is out of surgery and onto recovery. The cancerous lumps are OUT. Susan relays the news that the mastectomy went as expected and, pending further tests, the lymph system appears clear. Hooray! I visited Kristina at Swedish around 10:00 this morning where she was waiting between the dye injection and surgery. Apparently Limbo is a large, curtained hospital ward where partially robed patients, hooked up to IVs, have the pleasure of staring at each other as they nervously await their procedures. I know that I'd like to be in the presence of 8 to 10 strangers, separated only by a thin veil, before facing my major operation. But of course, armed with the book that Heather gave her and with Ryan at her side, Kristina waited graciously. She was in high enough spirits to make funny faces at baby Elliott, although I won't speculate about her true, private thoughts. That is her story to tell. Susan tells me that Kristina's mom, grandmother, father, brother, and friends Paul and Lori were at the hospital waiting with Ryan while Kristina was in surgery. Forgive me if I have left someone out. I know that Kristina and Ryan are very thankful to have Caley in their lives to spend the day and night with Tessa. I heard they were off to Husky Deli at 1o:00 am this morning for ice cream. No wonder Tessa loves Caley! That is all for now. I'll send you more news as I receive it. If you leave a message here, I'll relay it to Kristina at the hospital tonight. Sincerely yours, Michele
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Quick post before the big day
Thank you, Michele, for posting tonight (your test post worked!) and for updating everyone tomorrow. I appreciate that you are helping me in ways large and small throughout this process. And to those who wonder what made Carolyn & Michele laugh (and nearly crash…sorry!) you’ll have to ask one of us in person. ;-)
Surgery details:We (Ryan will be with me tomorrow) will be checking in tomorrow at 7am, I’ll get a dye injection at 9am-ish, and the surgery is schedule for 1:15pm. The surgery should last 2-3 hours. The surgery is at:Swedish Medical Center, Providence Campus
Same Day Surgery Center
550 16th Ave, second floor
From I-5 northbound, take the James St. exit, turn right onto James, which will become Cherry. Turn right onto 16th Ave. The parking garage is on the right.
www.swedish.org
Ryan will have my cell phone with him, as his is (temporarily) kaput. Everyone should have that number, or Caley can give it out if you call our home number. (Sorry, don’t want to post that on the internet.)
Caley will be watching Tessa lovingly, and making sure she has a fabulous day. We are grateful. Caley is spending the night tonight and tomorrow night, and we don’t know what we’d do without her.
Today was a wonderful day in so many ways. My friends gathered around me so lovingly – I felt truly cherished at my “spa day.” Heather’s home is gorgeous and she really left no detail undone – beautiful flowers, incredible food, and the wonderful spa services. Thank you to Michele & Heather for making this event happen! This is a memory that I will take with me for a lifetime – every woman deserves to feel this type of friendship in her life. Thank you, dear friends.
I will repeat what I said to my “spa friends” to you: Most people would face the type of dilemma I’m in with sheer terror – understandably. However, I only feel 25% terror, but 75% joy. I feel so much joy from the love I have in my life – I have SO much to be grateful for. This cancer has reminded me of things in my life that I’ve taken for granted. I have the best friends and family any person could ever ask for, and I’m humbled and grateful by your support. I have no right to have sheer terror in the face of so much love, caring, friendship, and support. The terror doesn’t go away, but it’s smaller than the joy. I will carry those thoughts with me into surgery, and I hope my last look before the anesthetic sets in are my newly painted pink toes! (Oh how I wish I could wear my wedding ring into surgery…..)
There is still terror. I don’t want to do what I have to do. I don’t want to look at my chest the first time they take off the bandages. I don’t want to feel the pain after surgery. I don’t want to face the look in my daughter’s eyes when I say “no, Mommy can’t pick you up…I’m sorry.” I don’t want to face the horrible possibilities of this disease. I don’t want to be strong, I don’t want to be brave, I don’t want to deal with this. I want my regular life back. But dwelling on such thoughts gets me no-where. Where possible, I banish such thoughts. Tears do come, but I brush them away and wait for the joy to come back.
Ryan has told me that he would trade places with me if he could, and I believe him. His love for me is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, and makes my joy for all other things even greater because I get to share my life with him. (He doesn’t want his toenails painted at a girls’ day, but he supports my going, and hugs me upon my return. That means the world to me.) I ache for Ryan, because tomorrow I actually have the easier job: I will be “sleeping” and he will be wondering and worrying as I am in surgery. Please, all of you, watch out for my beloved husband and help him through those difficult hours. Let him remember that he is not alone, either. And Ryan Douglas Surface, here it is for all the world to read: I love you with all of my heart and soul. Having you at my side makes me a better, stronger person. There is nobody else in the universe as well suited to me as you, and I feel blessed to call myself your wife. I love you, sweetheart. And I don’t forget my promise to you: I plan to go old with you. We will travel to Tuscany, introduce our daughter to the delights of Paris, and return to frolic at Cannon Beach. I regret every moment of time with you I’ve ever taken for granted, because I love you so.
Tonight Tessa asked Ryan, as he was tucking her in to bed, to “Sing me a cancer song, Daddy.” (It is our tradition to sing her a made-up song about her day as she goes to sleep.) Ryan made up something about going to the hospital to get better, having strong medicine, and Mommy needing some time to rest. And through this, Ryan’s heart nearly broke. We want to sing about the dog we met in the park, or what it feels like to touch a starfish….not about cancer. I love our daughter until it brings tears to my eyes, and I wish with every fiber of my being that I could shield her from this. She is strong, too, and she will adapt, but I wish we didn’t need her to learn strength in this way. Precious Tessa Katherine, you are the light of my life and everything is clearer and brighter since you arrived into my life. I adore you. You are my perfect child – you are perfect for me, for us, and I wouldn’t change a hair on your head. Thank you for giving me strength through your hugs and kisses – when you say “Mommy get better!” I vow that I will, indeed, do that…for you.
And I must say a note to my parents before I sign off. Becoming a parent has made me understand, perhaps for the first time, just how deeply my parents love me. I know that their hearts are breaking. I know that I thank God that it is me that has cancer, and not Tessa….and that my parents would do ANYTHING to make me better. Mom and Dad, I love you, and I hope I’ve told you that enough. Thank you for being there, always, since the beginning, to support me. We will get through this. Your support helps to sustain me, and the many ways in which you’ve given me support keep me going. Thank you.
And I could go on, for each friend, and there will be time for that on other days. Right now, I must pack my hospital bag, and prepare for bed. Dear friends and family, please remember that I KNOW how much I am blessed, and that I am eternally grateful to you for all of the support you’ve given me in so many ways. I am humbled, overwhelmed, and eternally grateful for your love. I look forward to spending the rest of my long life in repaying you for your many kindnesses.
With love and hope,Kristina
Surgery details:We (Ryan will be with me tomorrow) will be checking in tomorrow at 7am, I’ll get a dye injection at 9am-ish, and the surgery is schedule for 1:15pm. The surgery should last 2-3 hours. The surgery is at:Swedish Medical Center, Providence Campus
Same Day Surgery Center
550 16th Ave, second floor
From I-5 northbound, take the James St. exit, turn right onto James, which will become Cherry. Turn right onto 16th Ave. The parking garage is on the right.
www.swedish.org
Ryan will have my cell phone with him, as his is (temporarily) kaput. Everyone should have that number, or Caley can give it out if you call our home number. (Sorry, don’t want to post that on the internet.)
Caley will be watching Tessa lovingly, and making sure she has a fabulous day. We are grateful. Caley is spending the night tonight and tomorrow night, and we don’t know what we’d do without her.
Today was a wonderful day in so many ways. My friends gathered around me so lovingly – I felt truly cherished at my “spa day.” Heather’s home is gorgeous and she really left no detail undone – beautiful flowers, incredible food, and the wonderful spa services. Thank you to Michele & Heather for making this event happen! This is a memory that I will take with me for a lifetime – every woman deserves to feel this type of friendship in her life. Thank you, dear friends.
I will repeat what I said to my “spa friends” to you: Most people would face the type of dilemma I’m in with sheer terror – understandably. However, I only feel 25% terror, but 75% joy. I feel so much joy from the love I have in my life – I have SO much to be grateful for. This cancer has reminded me of things in my life that I’ve taken for granted. I have the best friends and family any person could ever ask for, and I’m humbled and grateful by your support. I have no right to have sheer terror in the face of so much love, caring, friendship, and support. The terror doesn’t go away, but it’s smaller than the joy. I will carry those thoughts with me into surgery, and I hope my last look before the anesthetic sets in are my newly painted pink toes! (Oh how I wish I could wear my wedding ring into surgery…..)
There is still terror. I don’t want to do what I have to do. I don’t want to look at my chest the first time they take off the bandages. I don’t want to feel the pain after surgery. I don’t want to face the look in my daughter’s eyes when I say “no, Mommy can’t pick you up…I’m sorry.” I don’t want to face the horrible possibilities of this disease. I don’t want to be strong, I don’t want to be brave, I don’t want to deal with this. I want my regular life back. But dwelling on such thoughts gets me no-where. Where possible, I banish such thoughts. Tears do come, but I brush them away and wait for the joy to come back.
Ryan has told me that he would trade places with me if he could, and I believe him. His love for me is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, and makes my joy for all other things even greater because I get to share my life with him. (He doesn’t want his toenails painted at a girls’ day, but he supports my going, and hugs me upon my return. That means the world to me.) I ache for Ryan, because tomorrow I actually have the easier job: I will be “sleeping” and he will be wondering and worrying as I am in surgery. Please, all of you, watch out for my beloved husband and help him through those difficult hours. Let him remember that he is not alone, either. And Ryan Douglas Surface, here it is for all the world to read: I love you with all of my heart and soul. Having you at my side makes me a better, stronger person. There is nobody else in the universe as well suited to me as you, and I feel blessed to call myself your wife. I love you, sweetheart. And I don’t forget my promise to you: I plan to go old with you. We will travel to Tuscany, introduce our daughter to the delights of Paris, and return to frolic at Cannon Beach. I regret every moment of time with you I’ve ever taken for granted, because I love you so.
Tonight Tessa asked Ryan, as he was tucking her in to bed, to “Sing me a cancer song, Daddy.” (It is our tradition to sing her a made-up song about her day as she goes to sleep.) Ryan made up something about going to the hospital to get better, having strong medicine, and Mommy needing some time to rest. And through this, Ryan’s heart nearly broke. We want to sing about the dog we met in the park, or what it feels like to touch a starfish….not about cancer. I love our daughter until it brings tears to my eyes, and I wish with every fiber of my being that I could shield her from this. She is strong, too, and she will adapt, but I wish we didn’t need her to learn strength in this way. Precious Tessa Katherine, you are the light of my life and everything is clearer and brighter since you arrived into my life. I adore you. You are my perfect child – you are perfect for me, for us, and I wouldn’t change a hair on your head. Thank you for giving me strength through your hugs and kisses – when you say “Mommy get better!” I vow that I will, indeed, do that…for you.
And I must say a note to my parents before I sign off. Becoming a parent has made me understand, perhaps for the first time, just how deeply my parents love me. I know that their hearts are breaking. I know that I thank God that it is me that has cancer, and not Tessa….and that my parents would do ANYTHING to make me better. Mom and Dad, I love you, and I hope I’ve told you that enough. Thank you for being there, always, since the beginning, to support me. We will get through this. Your support helps to sustain me, and the many ways in which you’ve given me support keep me going. Thank you.
And I could go on, for each friend, and there will be time for that on other days. Right now, I must pack my hospital bag, and prepare for bed. Dear friends and family, please remember that I KNOW how much I am blessed, and that I am eternally grateful to you for all of the support you’ve given me in so many ways. I am humbled, overwhelmed, and eternally grateful for your love. I look forward to spending the rest of my long life in repaying you for your many kindnesses.
With love and hope,Kristina
Sunday Night -- Update care of Michele
Thank you to everyone who attended Kristina's "spa day" at Heather's. You are an amazing, inspiring group of women. Tonight Kristina spends time with Ryan and Tessa after her day laughing, chatting, and relaxing with the girls. While the majority of the day was filled with smiles, no one could help but shed a few tears when Kristina brought us all together to tell us the joy she feels having so many people express their love in their kind words and deeds. Despite Carolyn and Kristina's best efforts to sport happy faces, when Carolyn left for the airport a few more tears spilled (although Carolyn tells me this happens every time they part.) Ask Kristina to tell you how she almost caused an accident as we were driving off. All I am going to say is that the visit certainly ended in laughter. Tomorrow Kristina will have her mastectomy and, in light of this, has declared a state of celebration. Why? The cancerous lumps will be gone! I will update you tomorrow when she is in the hospital (with help from Susan). Kristina won't be taking calls, but Ryan will have her cell phone. Down with cancer! Viva la Kristina!
Off to the "spa"!
In a little while, my mom & Susan will show up to take me - and Carolyn too, hurrah! - to the "spa" at Heather's house. There will be laughter and friendship, and I can't wait. I'm so incredibly fortunate to have these women in my life.
I hope to do a post tonight pre-surgery, but this morning I'm going to have a wonderful time and try to push surgery out of my mind. Less than 24 hours until I am checked in to this hospital...could this be real?!
K
I hope to do a post tonight pre-surgery, but this morning I'm going to have a wonderful time and try to push surgery out of my mind. Less than 24 hours until I am checked in to this hospital...could this be real?!
K
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